


I Want To Take Care Of You

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional confessions, Fever, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Nostalgia, Pining, Reading Aloud, Reunions, Sappy, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: James is ill and Thomas just wants to look after him.





	I Want To Take Care Of You

“For the last time, lie down and let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” James says without moving from his post at the window. “You’re the one who’s been a prisoner for the last ten years.”

That would be insulting if the situation wasn’t so laughable  _and_ frustrating. Thomas sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Just for a few hours?”

“We need to leave this place.” James murmurs. They’ve been here a week since he arrived at the plantation and he will barely leave the window. He has a fever and he won’t rest. He’s always like this when he’s ill.

“James, I know you’re eager to leave, but a few more days won’t delay our plans overly long.”

Thomas starts smiling in spite of his worry.

“What?” James turns his head and catches him. “Why are you smiling?”

“Do you remember the first time you were sick and wouldn’t let me take care of you?”

“It was just a head cold.” James mutters. “There was no need.”

“You couldn’t stop sneezing.” Thomas remembers, fondness in his voice. The sight of the very proud lieutenant with a red, dripping nose, sitting upright as usual, but continually apologizing every time he took out his handkerchief had been surprisingly touching and amusing, though Thomas never admitted the latter.

*  *  *

“Let me have Mary make you some hot tea with lemon.” Thomas suggests. “Or some broth.”

“My lord, no, I’m fine.” James protests. “It will pass.” The next sneeze wracks his shoulders with a deep shudder.

“Perhaps it will, but not anytime soon.”

James simply sneezes again, burying his face in his handkerchief. “I should go.”

“Where, back to your rooms where the bed is cold and no one is there to look after you?” Thomas asks. “Stay here. My wife,” he’s not above invoking Miranda in this to get his way, “will be most pleased to have you as our guest.”

James wavers, which shows just how sick he is. “I don’t want to intrude upon you, my lord.”

“You do not intrude.” Thomas assures him. “Come.”

He rings for the butler to have a room prepared with bed warmers, and then some light clear soup to be made for later when James has some appetite. 

James wipes his nose again and looks at his sodden handkerchief sadly. “I might have to borrow a handkerchief.”

Thomas takes his own out of his pocket. “Take mine.”

James scowls at him across the desk. “You almost look like you’re enjoying this.”

In a way, Thomas is. Not that he wants James to be ill, no, of course not, but the excuse to have James stay, to have him under his roof a little longer, that part Thomas is thoroughly enjoying.

 *  *  *

Later in the afternoon he peeks inside the guest room and finds James curled up on his side, staring dully at the wall. He looks so pitiful that it’s all Thomas can do to keep from going to him and stroking his brow.

“Can’t sleep?” Thomas asks sympathetically.

“It’s impossible to just lie here and rest.” James mutters. “It feels like I’m being a lazy bas….layabout.” he amends his language hastily.

Thomas hides a smile. “Perhaps you would like me to read to you?”

James’s eyes brighten at the prospect. “Unless you’re busy.”

“I’m not busy at all.” Thomas assures him. He brings one of the armchairs over beside the bed. “I brought a selection from the library. Nothing too taxing. Shakespeare? Poetry? Fairy tales?”

“You could read me anything and I’d enjoy it.” James murmurs drowsily.

Thomas’s gaze flickers to his face, but there’s nothing intimated in his tone. Just a straightforward observation, admitted casually in his illness.

“How about one of these?” Thomas takes his seat and opens the book of fairy tales as James gives a contented sigh. “Once upon a time…”

He reads three tales in a row with James making scoffing noises at certain parts of the stories and approving murmurs at others.

When he finishes the third one Thomas looks up to see James soundly asleep, his face pressed into the pillow, snoring slightly out of his half open mouth.

Thomas sits and watches him, wondering how long this will be able to go on. Simply gazing at the man he’s lost his heart to, sitting with him with him like this; it’s both heaven and hell all in the same breath. How can he bear this?

He sits by James all afternoon just enjoying being near him. Even in sleep, he enjoys James’s company more than any other’s. 

In the evening unfortunately he has a dinner arrangement he can’t cancel and regretfully departs, leaving James in Miranda’s tender care.

                                                          *  *  *

Thomas sighs, nostalgically remembering those days. It feels like a hundred years ago. He looks at James standing by the window, gazing out at the plantation with wary eyes.

That first time he couldn’t go to James and touch him how he wanted to. Now there’s nothing to stop him. So Thomas goes to him, pressing his lips to the back of James’s neck, feeling the heat of his fever.

“Please,” He whispers. “I want to take care of you.”

James sighs and then finally, at last lets himself lean into Thomas’s embrace. “Very well.”

Thomas leads him over to the pallet where he has James lie down, and fetches a clean muslin cloth and a bucket of fresh water to wash his feverish brow.

“You have to let me take care of you now.” Thomas says. “It’s only fair.” He dabs at James’s brow carefully.

“Why is it only fair?” James asks, his eyes closing in spite of his determination to keep them open.

“You waged a war for me.” Thomas murmurs.

James opens one eye, gazing at him. They haven’t talked much about that yet, barely at all in truth. As though both of them know they need to be away from this place before they reveal all the truths and secrets of the last ten years. 

“How do you know that?”

Thomas dips the cloth in the water bucket again. “When I heard the tales of Captain Flint, the fearsome tales of his deeds, the legends of his villainy and violence...the lengths he went to, to fight that war against the crown, I knew that the man must have a strong reason for his actions, whatever it was. And then one day I heard of a ship that Captain Flint took, and a man aboard that ship that he killed.”

James’s breath has gone shallow, his body tense upon the pallet, listening to Thomas’s quiet words.

“And I knew that it was you.” Thomas brushes the cloth gently along his temple.

“How?” James rasps. “How could you know?”

“Because fate would have allowed that man’s death to only one of three people.” Thomas pats across the brow slowly, wiping away the sweat. “I am still inclined towards peace. I think there should be measures taken before violence is done. But I was  _glad_ …that day I was glad. Because I knew he was dead, and you, my truest love, were still alive.”

He kisses James’s warm brow tenderly, before placing the cool cloth over James’s head.

“So now, we’ll rest until you’re strong again and then we’ll leave to start our new life together.”

James reaches for Thomas’s hand, clasping it in his own as he draws it up to his dry lips. “All right.” He murmurs. His eyes drift shut again. “For that, I will rest.”

“Sleep, my love.” Thomas sits beside him, watching as he did all those years ago, only this time he never has to leave James’s side.

“Tell me a fairy tale.” James whispers.

Thomas smiles. So James did remember. “Once upon a time there was a lord and a lieutenant who fell in love…”

 


End file.
